


against the current (all alone)

by blackkat



Series: Bleach Drabbles [8]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 01:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19713523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Ichigo, Shūhei, and a conversation about choices and the color red.





	against the current (all alone)

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Star WarsAU for bleach. Hisagi and Ichigo are the only non-sith lords who pull red kyber crystals

“This was a mistake,” Ichigo says, grim.

It’s not directed at Shūhei, who pauses in the doorway of the training salle, unsure of his welcome. There's a girl with Ichigo, one of the older padawans, and Shūhei recognizes her. A friend of Renji’s, though he doesn’t know her personally. Didn’t know that she knew Ichigo, either.

“What, that hair?” she teases, though Shūhei can see her expression is worried as she watches Ichigo's tight shoulders. “Finally, I thought you'd never accept it—”

Ichigo sighs, and Rukia's mouth closes. She stares at him for a long moment, even though he doesn’t look back at her, keeps his eyes focused on the lightsaber in his hand.

Shūhei remembers what that felt like, the horror and the sudden certainty that his soul wasn’t _right_ , that whatever was inside him was something terrible and wrong. Reaching down, he presses a hand to his own lightsaber, feeling the hum of it, the weight of the Khyber crystal inside. Remembering, all too clearly, the moment it first came to his hand, and the way his crechemates looked at him afterwards.

Clearing his throat, he steps forward, and smothers a smile as both padawans twitch and spin. Instantly, Rukia draws herself up stick-straight, eyes going wide, and says, “Master Hisagi!”

Shūhei still feels weird being called that; he doesn’t look _that_ much older than she does. Then again, his species tends to be longer-lived than humans, so he supposes that doesn’t matter much.

“Kuchiki,” he returns, and lets his gaze slide past her, to where Ichigo is watching him, mouth tight and eyes dark. He’s still gripping his lightsaber, which Shūhei will take as a good sign. “Master Shiba was looking for you in the library.”

Horror crosses Rukia's face, and she flushes, scrambling to grab her bag. “Sorry, Ichigo, I’ll be back as soon as I'm done!” she says, and hits the door running.

In her wake, Ichigo snorts softly, eyes on the spot where she vanished. “Kaien’s usually the one who’s late,” he says, faintly amused, and it’s always a jolt when Shūhei recalls that he’s part of the extended Shiba family, known for producing a hell of a lot of Force-sensitives. And pirates, though they don’t tend to advertise that part as much.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Shūhei says, and lets the door of the salle slide closed behind him. “Maybe waiting will help teach him patience.”

“ _Kaien_? Not a chance.” But Ichigo's eyes flicker down to his lightsaber again, and his mouth pulls tight, ever-present scowl only deepening.

Shūhei watches him for a long moment, then decides to drop the pretense. “I was hoping you’d spar with me,” he says, letting his cloak slide off his shoulders and folding it neatly, laying beside Ichigo's bag. When he straightens, Ichigo is watching him with a frown, gaze lingering on the blacks that Shūhei favors instead of the usual Jedi tan.

“Who are you again?” he asks abruptly, and the creche masters would smack him for that kind of rudeness, but Shūhei snorts.

“Shūhei Hisagi,” he says. “I'm usually away from the Temple, so you probably haven’t heard of me.” Which is inconvenient, for matters like this, but hopefully the shock value will help him get his message across a little better.

Ichigo is still frowning, but it’s a little more thoughtful this time. “Shinji mentioned you,” he says, with an air of realization. “You were Kensei's padawan, right?”

There’s a landmine in the potential answer to that, a lot of things Shūhei could say that would be technically correct but also a lie. He hesitates for a long moment, not sure how much he wants to air, and then says, “Kensei was the one who finished my training, yes.”

Given Ichigo's circumstances, the fact that he addresses council members by their given names doesn’t even bear addressing. Shūhei has been undercover in the Outer Rim for the last year, and even he’s heard about the genius Force-user who was somehow missed during searches, who saved a Jedi master and was taken in to the Order, years late but too powerful to let go untrained.

It makes it worse, Shūhei is sure. At least he pulled his Khyber crystal when he was a child, with years to grow into it. Ichigo, new to every part of the Jedi Order, doesn’t even have that luxury.

“How is Kensei?” he asks, because it’s been over a year since they could talk, given Shūhei’s assignment, and Shūhei got back yesterday, collapsed into bed, and woke up to whispers about the Kurosaki boy’s lightsaber. He hasn’t had a chance to comm anyone yet.

Ichgo pulls a face. “Are he and Mashiro always…like that?”

For anyone who knows the pair, it’s more than descriptive enough. Shūhei laughs, stepping onto the mats, and shakes his head. “Always,” he says, and gives Ichigo a wry smile. “I thought I would die before I made Knight, with them.”

Amusement flickers across Ichigo's face, though there’s a thread of wariness there as well. “Yeah. I'm glad I got Yoruichi, looking at them.”

“She’s one of the best,” Shūhei agrees, and meets Ichigo's gaze, holding it. Keeps his expression neutral, even, as he asks, “Should I assume that’s a no to sparring?”

The line of Ichigo's mouth flattens, firms. “Fine,” he says, and it would be cool if not for the vibrating thread of tension in the word. In a motion that’s already familiar, he flips the lightsaber around and raises it, falling into a ready stance, and Shūhei smiles. Doesn’t draw his own, but takes careful steps to the side, circling Ichigo on the mats. The Force hums around them, wrapped around Ichigo in ways Shūhei hasn’t felt before, but it doesn’t strike him as wrong, the way it did around Tōsen. This is something natural, something Light.

Ichigo's lightsaber hisses to life, and the blade is a bloody, glowing red, casting shadows on the sharp planes of his face.

“You have a good stance,” Shūhei says, and he can see Yoruichi's influence in it, the lightness to how Ichigo is balanced, ready to move.

“Is this training or a spar?” Ichigo asks tightly, and moves. He’s fast, exceptionally so, but Shūhei has been one of the most active knights for his entire career, always on assignment and in danger, and he sees it coming. Sidesteps, whirls through the reverse, and his own lightsaber leaps to his hand with a thought. He twists, steps in, and—

A scarlet blade meets one of crimson, and over them Ichigo's eyes go wide with shock.

Shūhei disengages, steps back, and he lowers his blade but doesn’t turn it off. The bright red glow is familiar after all these years, something Shūhei has come to terms with at long last, but—

He knows why Ichigo reacted the way he did to finding a red crystal. Knows all too well how other people react to that, too. Red is a Sith color, not a Jedi color.

“I think,” Shūhei says quietly, “that the red has more to do with choices we’ll have to face than it does what we _are_.”

Ichigo's gaze flickers from the bloody scarlet blade to Shūhei’s face. The way he swallows is visible, quick, and then he says, “Choices?”

Shūhei twists his lightsaber around his fingers, letting it spin in a wash of red. “My first master Fell,” he says, bland, like the memory of Tōsen isn't still a gaping wound. “He tried to get me to follow him, because of my ‘saber. Because he thought I would make a good apprentice. But I killed him.” and that still hurts the worst, Tōsen’s absolute faith that Shūhei would follow him into the Dark, that he’d turn his back on everything, that he misjudged Shūhei’s character so completely, or overlooked it, that he thought he’d betray the Order.

Ichigo stares at him for a long moment before he looks away, deactivating his lightsaber and stepping back. “I used—I used it,” he says abruptly, like a challenge. “The Dark. When Yoruichi was about to die, and I—it was there, and I was angry, so I used it.”

Shūhei nods. “It feels good, for a minute,” he says wryly, and when Ichigo goes still, he deactivates his own lightsaber and sits down, leaning back on his hands. “You’re not the only one who’s been tempted, Ichigo. I can guarantee you won't be the last, either. Even you aren’t that special.”

Bitterness twists Ichigo's expression, just for a moment. Slowly, stiffly, he sinks down to the mats as well, and says, “It’s just—right there. Like I'm going to lose control.”

They're similar, Shūhei thinks. Far, far too similar. The idea of losing control has always terrified him, too.

“We’re not Sith,” he says firmly, and Ichigo takes a breath like it’s an effort. “We’re never going to be, either. People can think whatever the hell they want about us, but we’re even stronger because we’ve been tempted. Because we said _no_. Because we know better than most people what the stakes are.”

There's a pause, and then Ichigo huffs out a sound that’s almost a laugh. “You're a lot better at pep talks than Yoruichi,” he says. “She offered to get me drunk.”

Shūhei makes a face. “That was Kensei's answer to me spilling my guts to him, too,” he says. Hesitates, just for a moment, and then offers, “My next assignment is only for a month, in the Outer Rim. Would you like to come? I can put in the request to Yoruichi, but I think she’ll say yes.” After all, if she offered to get Ichigo drunk, that means she knows there’s a problem. Giving Ichigo a chance to escape from the rumors and the whispers can only help.

Ichigo looks surprised, then thoughtful. “I thought Jedi didn’t spend a lot of time in the Rim,” he says.

Shūhei tips one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s where I'm from,” he says simply. “And looking like I do, with a red lightsaber—there are a lot of ways I can be useful out there.” At Ichigo's raised brows, he smirks faintly. “If I have it anyway, I might as well use it, right?”

Ichigo snorts, but when he meets Shūhei’s eyes again, something in his expression is lighter. Just a little, but—it’s a start. “I’d like that,” he says. “Thanks, Master Hisagi.”

Shūhei rises to his feet, offering Ichigo a hand. “Shūhei,” he corrects. “Come on, we can ask Yoruichi now. At this time of day she’s probably torturing Master Urahara.”

“Isn't she always?” Ichigo mutters, but he takes Shūhei’s hand and lets himself be pulled to his feet.


End file.
